


Those Eyes

by lordmonday



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Boromir, Inexperienced Boromir, M/M, Top Aragorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11889663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordmonday/pseuds/lordmonday
Summary: What I think is a more...realistic first encounter between the two men in our Fellowship of the Ring. Mostly porn. Let's face it, there was two much staring in that scene, I just followed it to it's logical outcome.





	Those Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting on here. Let me know if you think there should be more, mostly anticipating this being a one-shot. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Those eyes...

What had started as an examination of an elven mural quickly turned into an examination of a man sitting in a chair mere feet away from him. At first glance, the man before him reminded him of his brother, Faramir. But further examining-for a man of his station did not stare at other men-soon ended the similarities. 

The man’s face was expressionless, the soft light from the surrounding woods casting an ethereal glow about him, the book in his hand lowered as he stared at Boromir. His dark hair was long and rich, and his features were notably fine. He was completely silent as he looked at the steward, his pose relaxed, but alert. His grey eyes were as piercing as an elven blade, and the gaze upon him felt older than that of his father. 

The eyes seemed to rob the young captain of his sense, but he searched for words to break the silence. “...you are no elf.” he said, the glaring obviousness of his statement stabbing at his pride. He felt a small amount of blood rush to his face, imagining what his father would think of his grand powers of observation. The future steward of Gondor making an apt representation of his glorious homeland. 

“The men of the south are welcome here.” the man responded, his soft voice holding a note of authority as he inclined his head. Boromir felt an unwelcome chill go down his back, and suddenly wished he still had his sword with him. The other man was unarmed as well, but something about his gaze made the steward feel like he was backed into a corner with no place to hide. Boromir forced himself not to swallow reflexively. 

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as light and uncaring as possible, as if he wasn’t at all interested in the stranger’s reply. Was he a noble from another province? Perhaps an officer of some sort? Something about his man made him think of high lords and the rulers of old he had only read about.

“I am friend to Gandalf the Grey.” he answered softly, both disappointing the eager steward and peaking his curiosity. A friend of the wizard? One that didn’t want to give his name. Perhaps he was some sort of spy for the elves, able to slip in and out of provinces of men without arousing suspicion. The eyes gave no answer, only holding his gaze with a steady grip.

“Then we are here on common purpose...” Boromir said, forcing the next word out with some hesitation. “...friend.” he finished, an uneasy smile going across his face. The man stared without answering at him, seeming perfectly at ease in the silence. The captain of Gondor was a man of action, however, unused to the lack of shouting voices or the noise of battle. He looked around for something to distract him from the discomfort and awkwardness only he felt. 

Just get me away from those eyes. he thought to himself, his eyes falling on the shards of a blade. They were arranged on an altar, shining beautifully, as if the stars and moon themselves were casting their light simply for the purpose of illuminating the area on which they lay. Boromir walked over to them as he recognized them, years of stories and tales having given him the knowledge to recognise the old weapon before him. That, and the mural behind him had a figure holding a sword that happened to look a tad similar.

Picking up the shattered remains of the magnificent sword, he stared in awe at the piece of history he was holding, for the briefest second the man close to him forgotten. “The shards of Narsil...the blade that cut the ring from Sauron’s hand.” he said, grasping the sword as if to test it, then running his finger up the length of the blade until he felt it prick. He gasped in surprise when he felt hot blood run down his finger.

“Still sharp...” he muttered, almost to himself. He became aware of his own surroundings then, and turned to the grey eyed man with a mixture of horror, amazement, and embarrassment. The latter of the three won out in the end, and he began to turn away.

“But no more than a broken heirloom.” he muttered as he turned, putting the sword clumsily on the altar and feeling his blood turn to ice when it hit the ground with a resounding note. He had just defiled the very sword that had saved Middle Earth so very long ago, insulting and dropping it as if it were useless refuse. He hesitated for a slightest second, but his pride did not allow him to turn around and replace the blade to it’s proper position. If the mystery man with the piercing eyes cared so much, he could put it back himself.

Boromir walked away, sucking at the blood on his finger and just managing to hear the sound of the sword being gently placed back on the altar, and a soft elven voice so pure and beautiful speaking in her native tongue. He forced himself not to linger, an odd mixture of fear and pride preventing his caring about what occurred behind him. It was not fear of offending a great elven artifact. It was the man, and his gaze, that terrified him.

He made his way back to his rooms, the peace he had begun to feel in the elven kingdom shattered by that blasted man. He hadn’t spent five minutes in his company, but he had somehow managed to humiliate himself, along with his entire kingdom. As well as possibly offend every ancestor he had ever had with his mistreatment of the sacred weapon. 

He seemed to be a ranger, but I’ve met their kind before. This man was something...different. Perhaps he is a wizard himself? Boromir thought to himself, trying to deduce how on earth the man was able to arouse such strange feelings of fear inside him. He felt more intimidated now than when he had trained with top generals in his youth, and far more embarrassed. 

The steward entered the room that had been prepared for him, not noticing how each wooden beam and piece of furniture was carved beautifully, without imperfection, and the way the moonlight shown inside the large window. The window had a seat that was more than comfortable enough to sleep in if he so desired, as it would most likely be softer than any of the finest beds made in Gondor. But the captain only had a mind for the ranger, and his gaze. 

He paced around his room, feeling restless and anxious. Was this person to be summoned to the council as well? Boromir was unsure if he would be able to stay focused, if the man so much as looked at him. His father’s reaction would be one of horror if he learned his eldest son had been unable to say a word for Gondor because he was tongue-tied over some man who had piercing eyes.

No, that will not happen. Too much is at stake in this, if what my father says is true. If the One Ring truly is here, I must bring this mighty weapon to my father, and to Gondor. Boromir thought confidently, ceasing his pacing and taking a large breath. He began to strip his armor off, even though he knew sleep would be hard to find with the thoughts buzzing in his head. 

Travel had been difficult, and months had passed as he journeyed from his homeland to Rivendell. His whole body was weary, and though he had bathed in a river not long before he arrived, he went to a nearby basin to splash his face with water, removing his shirt and using it to dry his face and wipe at his neck and chest. Gazing out the window, he breathed in the cool night air, feeling the pain in his body, even the small cut on his finger, fading away. Though he was exhausted, the healing powers of this land were not exaggerated. He knew he would likely recover from his journey before the week was over. 

A soft knock interrupted his examination of the beautiful scene out his window. Down to only his boots and linen trousers, the steward went to answer the door anyway. A person interrupting this late should expect people to be less than fully dressed, or at least any sensible human would. Opening the door, however, Boromir screamed mentally that he wished it was an elf instead. 

“May I have a word?” the storm colored eyes with the man attached to them asked, and Boromir nodded mutely. He wanted to force some kind of sound from his lips, but he was too afraid it would be some sort of unearthly squeak. The man walked past the dazed Gondorian into the middle of the room, and Boromir noticed that, while he had a stockier build than that of the entering man, his guest had at least an inch of height on him.

“I did not mean to interrupt your sleep.” the man said, looking at the the other’s bare chest and making him blush like a young maid. “I wanted to apologize for my...coldness, earlier. I fear I may have offended you, and that was not my intent.” he said, and while his words sounded sincere, the half naked listener was too distracted trying to sort out his reaction to the man’s stare.

“It’s...it’s not a problem.” Boromir said, trying his best to sound casual and knowing he was failing terribly. He felt shame rush to redden his face even more. “The...the sword, Narsil, I didn’t mean to-” he started, but cut off when the man smiled and nodded reassuringly. 

“I understand, it was an accident. I replaced the blade. The daughter of Elrond told me who you were, and I thought it best not to offend Gondor’s finest.” the man said with a small smile, and the compliment made him feel giddy as he hadn’t felt since he was drinking with his brother after the battle of Osgiliath. 

“No, of course not.” he replied far too eagerly, then attempted to slow his speech. “I mean, you haven’t offended me.” Boromir crooned, and he felt his blush spread to his neck when he realised the tone he had just spoken it was very similar to the one he used whilst intoxicated. Often it was brought on by an attractive woman serving him ale.

“Good. We may be working together, as I’ve heard you’ll be on the council as well. I’d hate to start our relationship as one of anger or resentment.” said the man softly, and Boromir felt pleasant chills coat his skin at the word ‘relationship’. What in the name of the Valar was wrong with him?

He has to be a wizard. No man is capable of...this. Whatever this is I’m feeling. Be strong of mind, you are the future ruler of Gondor, find out who he is. Boromir thought harshly to himself. He tried his best to breathe evenly.

“Tell me your name.” he ordered in an almost pleading voice, one he doubted a trained dog would listen to. “Please.” he tacked on the end, deciding that polite was better than weak and rude. The man hesitated, and Boromir felt his muscles tense slightly.

“You will most likely learn it tomorrow, at the council. I do not wish to...cause you uneasy sleep. You have had a long journey. I will leave you to your rest.” he said, turning toward the door and putting a hand on the Gondorian’s shoulder as he past. The small touch was like a bolt of lightning to the steward’s skin, and he grabbed the ranger’s hand without knowing why.

“Wait!” he nearly shouted, his eyes wide as the word expelled itself from his lips. The room became too quiet after that. He felt himself pale, a look of bewilderment on his face, and the two combined probably looked even more odd than his previous blushing. He couldn’t allow this ranger to leave without...what? Without what? 

Idiot, why did you grab at him like that? Boromir thought sharply, pulling back his hand like it was burned. To an extent it was. It felt hot, as if he had touched molten iron taken fresh from a forge, though he found it to be a more pleasurable heat than a burn. 

“Yes?” the ranger asked, a look of confusion on his rugged face. It was youthful and very handsome, but seemed somehow worn by time in a way that made the steward feel like a child. However, he found his body was having reactions that were anything but childish. His fingers were still tingling from the touch, and he was sure his entire body must be blushing vividly. 

“Don’t...I...” the suddenly terrified, dumbstruck Gondorian spat out. He forced a question past his nearly unyielding lips. “Where are you from?” he asked, even though he felt more like asking ‘What are you?’. Surely this man was using some form of enchantment on him, something to cloud his judgement and dazzle his eyes. 

The man stared at him oddly for a few seconds before answering. “I was raised here in my youth, by Lord Elrond. I have traveled to many a place since that time, none of which I would be able to call my home more than here.” he said, his voice husky, yet soft, all at once. It made Boromir’s stomach feel like something was writhing in his gut in a way that was oddly pleasant. Why could he not stop staring?

“I see...” Boromir said awkwardly, unable to hide the mix of fear and something he was horrified to recognise rising up inside him the longer he stood near the other man. “I...am afraid I am not feeling very well. I think I will retire.” he said too quickly, looking for some exit from these unusual feelings. The man raised his hand to Boromir’s forehead, the contact making the captain cease all movement as if he was a statue in his home city. 

“I am well trained in the art of healing.” the ranger explained, his fingers too hot against the captain’s face. “Your skin burns to the touch, lie down on the bed.” he ordered gently, walking to the small, intricately carved table by Boromir’s bedside, picking up a pitcher that was set on it. It took the steward a few seconds to remember how to walk, and he moved as if hypnotised toward the lovely elven bed he had ignored earlier.

The sheets glowed like pearls in the moonlight, and the captain felt the comfortable mattress sink under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed, finding the idea of lying flat on the bed and completely submitting himself to this man’s gaze both too delicious and terrifying at the same time. The man pulled up a small wooden chair from the corner and faced Boromir, only turning to the left to retrieve a cloth from the table. 

“You look flush. Do you feel dizzy?” the man asked, soaking the cloth in water from the pitcher and holding it against the Gondorian’s head. The cold water contrasting with both the ranger’s fingertips and his own burning skin felt incredible, and Boromir began to wish he had an entire cold lake to jump in.

“You have no idea...” he replied in a whisper, gazing helplessly into the eyes of the man next to him. The eyes, which had been looking at his forehead, lowered their grey irises to the captain’s own blue ones. It was too much, this burning inside him, this magnetism the man held over him. He was so close, near enough that if the steward just leaned forward...

He felt the ranger’s fingers press gently to his lips, stopping him an inch from the man’s own soft, parted lips. The man’s eyes were not filled with anger, or even bewilderment, but a soft questioning in them that made the captain feel as if he had tried to violate the purest maiden. His mouth opened in shock, and he tore his eyes away from the man before him, standing and grasping one of the bedposts beside him for stability. 

“Boromir.” the man muttered, and Boromir couldn’t resist his body jerking at the mention of his own name coming from such an utterly seductive voice. “It is not that I am...unwilling, for something such as that to occur. But you do not seem to be feeling well, you may not be in your right mind. I want to make sure that someone of your position does not do something he would regret.” The way he spoke was so careful and soft, it was like he was speaking to a small child. With Boromir’s state of mind at present, he could certainly understand why the man wanted to tread carefully with his words.

He hadn’t expected the man to be anything close to interested in what Boromir was so clearly wanting, but Boromir wasn’t even really sure that he wanted this in the first place! He didn’t hear the man stand up behind him, but the ranger’s shadow in the moonlight fell across the steward’s naked back, like a blanket surrounding him. 

“I am certainly not in my right mind. I haven’t spent an hour with you and I feel...I don’t even know your name!” Boromir exclaimed in hushed tones, making the mistake of turning back toward the ranger, who was outlined by the moonlight in a way that made him...breathtaking. He stood calmly in front of the wide eyed Gondorian, and held himself in an unconsciously regal manner, his eyes almost glowing as they searched Boromir’s.

“You may call me Strider.” he replied, leaning in a little closer to the captain and making him swallow rather loudly. “It’s a name I go by as often as any other, and I’ve taken a liking to it in more recent days.” said the man known as Strider, his tone only conversational, despite Boromir’s suspicion that his eyes were casting a form of spell on him.

“Strider...what are you?” he finally asked, his voice somewhat shaky. He knew his question was foolish, but if there was a chance this man wasn’t human, it was best to know the truth. He had been raised by elves, perhaps they had taught him some form of hypnotism. Strider gave him a small, bemused smile, understanding finally dawning in his eyes. 

“I am a man. Like you.” he muttered, taking another step towards Boromir. His voice had taken on what seemed to be an impossibly huskier tone than had already been displayed, and he had an almost predator-like look on his features. “I have needs. Like you.” he muttered, making Boromir pale slightly.

“I am perfectly prepared to give you what you want, as long as you’re sure that it is, in fact...” he said softly, running the back of his fingers gently down Boromir’s arm, the steward shivering with pleasure in response. “...what you want.” Strider finished, his expression momentarily very serious, not making any further movements. 

He’s giving me the chance to send him away. This can’t be spellcraft, can it? He would have no problem taking what he wants from me. the captain of Gondor mused, his thoughts clouded but certain this was what he wanted, and slowly leaned in. This time, the other man did not stop him. 

Boromir’s lips assaulted the ranger’s, crushing against them with a passion he hadn’t shown since his first love, very many years back. His blood felt hotter than it had then, boiling in his veins as he put his two weathered hands on either side of Strider’s face. His lips were so very different from a woman’s. They were calm and gentle, yielding without being overcome.

Strider returned the kiss, but he didn’t put forth the fiery aggression that Boromir seemed to be overflowing with. He put his hands on the steward’s hips, carefully maneuvering him back against the bed, moving his lips slowly and attempting to direct the younger man without force. He carefully avoided hitting their teeth together, and the captain’s entire body jerked when Strider slipped his tongue inside his mouth.

Boromir felt a sudden rush of pain, pleasure and heat shoot through his whole body, making his knees give out. Strider had to hold him up to keep him from falling. “Valar...what was that?” Boromir gasped out, sitting down on the bed so he would not end up on the floor. He felt ashamed and overly vulnerable, but Strider only tilted the his face up toward his, his stormy eyes questioning. 

“You have never been with a man, have you?” he asked, and Boromir shook his head silently. He had admired men, respected them, but this was the first time he had lusted after one. “When was the last time you were with a woman?” he pressed, and the steward gave a sort of wince when he realised he had to think much harder than he should have to to remember. 

“It’s been...perhaps a year. The journey here was long, and I have been...occupied, with the war. There has been little opportunity for merriment, or...time alone.” he muttered, letting the ranger make from that what he will and briefly lowering his eyes. Strider nodded, and bent down so he could whisper in Boromir’s ear. 

“Will you trust me to take care of you for the night? Some of what I might ask of you may seem strange, or cause you some discomfort. Can you handle it?” the husky voice growled in his ear, forcing shudders down the Gondorian’s back. His muscles were as tense as they had ever been in battle, and he wasn’t quite sure if he’d rather be in a bloody sword duel with a dozen orcs or not.

On the other hand, I think I am about to have a sword duel here and now. Boromir thought as Strider pulled back from him. He knew that putting himself in the other man’s hands would mean he wouldn’t have much say in the details of their...activities, but it wasn’t as if he knew what lying with a man entailed anyway. He nodded shortly, and the ranger began to slowly remove his clothing.

Boromir’s member was so hard it caused him actual pain, before Strider had even pulled off a single boot. He tried to hide himself inconspicuously, to no avail. The stormy eyed ranger before him never broke eye contact for more than a second, even as he shrugged off his undershirt, revealing muscles just as toned as the captain’s. His skin was slightly darker than Boromir’s, and he had far more scars than the Gondorian, surprising him. The man couldn’t be much older than he was, but he looked like he had been through more than twice the battles. 

When Strider untied his straining breeches and let them fall to the floor, Boromir began to realize the trouble he was in. He found himself licking his lips at a sight he had never seen before. The captain had observed his men unclothed on several occasions, even joined them and roughhoused while they bathed in the river, but never in this...state. He ached to touch and be touched, and there was no disguising that his lust was very clearly for another, human, man. That man held out his hand, pulling Boromir back to his feet.

Strider swiftly moved forward, pressing gently against the other man and showing that he was eager for this as well, his hard shaft pressing into Boromir’s still cloth-covered member. The steward gasped and bucked his hips forward in response, unable to control his body’s desire for more contact. The ranger did not respond in kind, however, and wrapped one sinewy arm around the captain’s neck, his free palm resting on the impatient man’s neck as Boromir attempted to push himself harder onto him.

“Not so desperate, Boromir, you will get your first release soon. We have all night in peace, if you desire it.” Strider chided gently, and the captain was reminded of his early sword lessons before he had reached manhood. He tried his best to keep still, but even just the idea of their two members pressing against each other made Boromir squirm. 

Strider pressed his lips to Boromir’s, the latter moaning and wrapping his own huge arms around the ranger’s waist, marveling at the feel of his skin under his hands. He could feel the ranger’s stubble against his own beard and face, and when the other man’s tongue pressed against the steward’s own open lips, he actually sucked it inside his mouth, as if to claim it. 

One of the ranger’s arms stayed around Boromir’s back, but his other hand came up to tangle his fingers in the captain’s hair. His tongue carefully explored the Gondorian’s mouth, ignoring the less experienced man’s very sloppy attempts to dominate the kiss, before pulling away to let the Boromir breathe. 

Strider slid down to the floor, his toned stomach rubbing against Boromir’s huge erection through his pants and making him gasp. He could actually feel his member leaking out fluid, something he had never actually felt even at his most aroused. The ranger slid Boromir’s pants down, forcing a sharp intake of breath from the captain’s mouth as his hard appendage was released to the cool air. 

“Impressive.” Strider said with a smile, looking up into Boromir’s heavy-lidded eyes before slowly closing his hand around his throbbing shaft. Boromir bent forward, a loud, guttural moan forcing itself out of his throat at the contact. His balls were so full he felt they would burst, liquid leaking out of him and dripping onto the ranger’s forearm. He could already feel his release approaching, and knew it wouldn’t take much to drive him over the edge.

Strider pulled Boromir’s pants the rest of the way off, leaving both men totally bare, save for the necklace the ranger wore. As Strider stood, Boromir reached up and touched it curiously, the gem shining brightly in the dim light and cutting through his lust induced haze for a brief moment. Strider looked down at the object of Boromir’s unspoken question. 

“A gift, from a dear friend.” he muttered, clasping Boromir’s hand. Strider rubbed his fingers along the Gondorian’s hand, feeling the callouses picked up after many years of training and battles. “Are you sure, Boromir?” he asked, looking down at the other man with storm filled eyes. The captain of Gondor gulped, closing his eyes and nodding. In spite of his fear, he felt he could trust this man.

Strider gently pushed Boromir back onto the bed, so he was lying with his legs hanging off the edge. The ranger let his hand linger on the captain’s chest, slowly sliding it down the his stomach, feeling the ragged breathing of the other man. 

“Ordinarily I would take this more slowly, but I don’t think you can wait much longer.” Strider said, making the other man give a desperate, short huff of laughter in agreement before the ranger went to his knees beside the bed. Boromir was positioned so Strider would have full access to his nether regions. 

The steward’s member jutted up proudly into the air, a thin line of fluid running along the underside, all the way to his sac. Strider eyed the other man’s length for a few seconds before parting Boromir’s legs and stroking the inside of his thigh, making Boromir shift nervously as untouched areas were explored.

“Trust me, Boromir, you are going to enjoy this very much. Try not to move around, if you can. It will make this easier.” Strider said, putting a hand on the bottom of Boromir’s stomach to hold him steady. The captain’s eyes peered over his own body at the ranger, propping himself up on his elbows, slightly nervous as he nodded.

Strider nipped lightly at Boromir’s inner thigh with his teeth, making the Gondorian jump, before smiling and gently taking Boromir’s member in his right hand. Boromir moaned at the sweet contact, barely managing not to thrust upwards. The ranger made him spread his legs further, gently nibbling and licking at the tender skin, slowly going closer to the captain’s rod.

“S-Strider...” Boromir said quietly, his hips rising of their own accord before Strider pushed them down again. The ranger moved his other hand to gently stroke the other man’s balls, forcing something similar to a croak out of the captain’s mouth as his hips pistoned upward despite his efforts not to move. Boromir squeezed his eyes shut, attempting not to come undone so embarrassingly soon. “I’m not sure...I cannot...”

“Hold it back as long as you can.” Strider directed him, squeezing the base of Boromir’s member to help contain his building climax. It had been too long for the young captain, and he was unable to keep his hips still, thrusting upward into the ranger’s grip with distress etched all over his face. So close, he was so close.

Strider sighed, knowing the other man truly could not contain himself. How long he must have travelled, not permitted the luxury of release for fear of creatures or foes interrupting. The ranger had ways to accomplish this himself, but he was rather accustomed to hiding in trees when the situation required. He finally took pity on the other man, leaning forward and laving the quickly rising balls of the other man, working his tongue higher and higher until he was attacking the underside of the shaft, just below the head. 

Boromir was attempting and failing to keep the sounds falling out of his mouth contained with one hand, the other clutching at the sheets below him harder than he had ever clutched his shield. The ranger’s final attack with his mouth was his undoing, and he was unable to stop himself from grabbing the sheets with his other hand, every muscle in his body pulled taught as the most powerful climax of his life approached relentlessly.

The steward began crying out wordlessly, knowing those nearby would surely hear him and being completely unable to stop himself. He arched his hips up, his scream briefly soundless, then folded inward, his head coming off the bed. He looked down the expanse of his muscular torso just as he began to erupt, the rangers eyes locked on his for a second that stretched longer than it should. Then the eyes were gone, lowered so that Strider could lick and suck at the balls before him as his hand lightly pumped at Boromir’s engorged, purple member. 

What came out of Boromir’s mouth next was nothing short of a battle cry as he began coating himself in a river of white, hitting his face, chest, and stomach. He had never shot so far or with such intensity, nor had he ever felt such an overwhelming rush of pleasure throughout his entire body. It took almost a dozen thick and powerful streams before they began to ebb and wane. He collapsed backwards, gasping for breath and letting out small, pathetic moans as Strider continued his gentle stroking and licking for close to a minute before becoming satisfied that his partner was quite finished. 

“Are you well?” the ranger asked hesitantly, only the slightest bit out of breath, compared to his panting companion. Boromir tried twice to form a coherent response before giving up and nodding lazily. Strider smiled, rising and surveying his work, rather pleased and suitably aroused himself. “You’ve made quite the mess of yourself, haven’t you?” he continued, running several fingertips through the mess on Boromir’s stomach and causing the other man to turn his head away. 

“I told you, it has been so long since...I was unable to help myself, I’m sorry.” the steward replied weakly, his breath coming in pants. He had not been so excitable since his early years, before knighthood. He shivered as the rangers fingers travelled, looking up at the other man and finding hunger in his eyes. Boromir’s gaze briefly lowered to where the Strider’s member jutted out towards him, pulsing almost angrily. His own member, still hard, gave an interested twitch. Part of him wished these feelings were gone, that they were some deluded fantasy brought on by going so long without release, but the fire in him was only slightly dimmed. He raised his eyes, a slight trepidation in them. “What will you do to me now?”

A soft smile lit up the ranger’s handsome face, and he lowered himself onto Boromir, pressing their bodies together firmly and allowing the steward to feel every inch of him. Boromir let out a surprised groan as their swords slid together, his seed making the motions wet and slick. Strider pressed harder, taking advantage of Boromir’s open mouth and claiming it with his own, silencing the other man’s sounds as he filled his mouth with his tongue and breath. 

“That depends largely on you. Is there anything you would wish of me, son of Gondor?” the ranger finally asked, breaking the kiss and allowing Boromir to gasp air into his lungs. After a frustrating few seconds, the steward shook his head in uncertainty, swallowing hard, feeling both helpless and...thrilled. Strider smiled hungrily, leaning down to whisper in Boromir’s ear. “Then I suppose I will have to do whatever I wish to you, and hope you enjoy it as much as I will.”

Boromir gave a small cry when the other man latched onto the sensitive skin just below his ear, licking, nipping, and sucking down his neck, taking special care to lap up any of Boromir’s mess. He tried to contain his noises as his chest was attacked by a mouth and skilled fingers that seemed to know just how to pinch, pull, and roll his nipples until he was panting. He was never this loud when he was with a woman, and certainly not by himself; then again, most never seemed to know all the right spots and areas like this mysterious man seemed to. 

“Please, I am unsure I can handle this.” Boromir finally gasped out, Strider pulling away to stand up with a bemused look on his face. Boromir sat up on the edge of the bed, seeing the ranger wiping a bit of spent seed on his finger and taking it into his mouth. The steward’s eyes were glued to the motion, a few loaded seconds of silence occurring before the Gondorian found his voice. “I just...have never done this before, felt these things. Is this how it is with...men who are with men? This overwhelming?”

Strider laughed lightly, causing Boromir to shift slightly on the silken bed covering, heat rising to his face. “It affects you the same as any other, but being your first time makes it far more...intense. Was it not like this the first time you bedded a woman?” he asked, taking a step forward and running a hand down the steward’s smooth, slick chest, resting it on his stomach.

“If I must speak honestly...no. While far more strange an idea to me, I cannot deny this fire.” Boromir replied, staring down at the other man’s weathered hand, so close to his leaking appendage. He had never had such a resurgence of lust so soon after finishing, but all he could think about was the man putting his hands and lips on him again. Taking a breath to steel himself, Boromir stood, so close to the other man he could feel the heat rolling off his body.

“I wish to-” the steward began, unable to finish his thought. He stood there, looking longingly into the other man’s eyes until he felt he would sink into them and never rise out. Strider just gazed back at him and nodded, understanding, bringing his hand up to the back of Boromir’s head and pulling him even closer. They became intertwined with one another, arms wrapping around strong shoulders and tongues melding with one another in a kiss that built a burning inside them both such that Boromir was sure they would burst into flame. 

Strider slipped both his hands down the steward’s back, fingers running over the sweat slicked skin before settling themselves on the other man’s well muscled buttocks. Boromir gasped in surprise as Strider pulled the other man’s body closer, his hands never leaving the previously unexplored area. Certainly no woman had even touched him there, at least not in any kind of intimate sense. Strider ground his hips almost viciously into Boromir’s, causing their hard shafts to rub together roughly and deliciously. 

“What you wish for you may have, son of Gondor.” Strider growled, his hands grabbing possessively as his arousal grew. Boromir could feel their hearts racing in the close contact of their chests, and let out a shuddering groan at what the sliding and pressing of their bodies was doing to him. “You simply must tell me what you wish.” he muttered before attaching his mouth to Boromir’s neck, biting, sucking, and licking until the steward’s pleased noises filled the room. 

“If I...” Boromir started, letting out a small curse and jerking his whole body when Strider lowered his mouth to a nipple and bit. “If I have no knowledge of how this works with a man, how am I to know what to wish for?” Were these parts of his body always this sensitive, or did it take a man to make the actions feel this good?

“You simply do what you feel it right. With the occasional addition of oil or...other things.” the other man said, slipping one of his hands down Boromir’s chest and stomach before moving it in between the his backside and using his fingers to press against areas that had never before been seen, let alone touched, by another soul. The steward grabbed the other man’s wrist as a reflex, looking down at him almost in shock but not pulling the hand away. “Am I right to believe you have left yourself untouched here?” The feeling of Strider’s fingers there felt alien and pleasant, heat pulsing from the area and making his whole body burn in response with both pleasure and embarrassment. 

“I can say with every confidence that, unless I am bathing, I do not give that area a second thought.” he said more calmly than he felt, his mouth dropping open when the other man pressed a finger a little more firmly against his entrance. Strider was watching his face with obvious lust and interest, and Boromir was helpless to hide the obvious pleasure and slight discomfort on his face as the finger breached him, sliding in only a little before Boromir gave a sharp, conflicted cry. Was this pain? Pleasure? Both?

“If you wish for me to stop, you need only say. But I will promise you, this can be more pleasureable than anything you have known before.” Strider said, not moving his finger, which felt hot and slick inside him. The steward didn’t know it, but it was his own seed making the entry easier and pleasant. It felt so overwhelming, all of it. Boromir was only used to his pleasure coming from one place, not everywhere at once. His chest, his mouth, his...

“Is this what men do with one another? This is...very different.” Boromir said uncertainly, the other man nodding slowly in response, keeping himself still until he knew what the steward wanted. While nervousness threatened to say no, his curiosity and pride won out. He would not be put off just because this was unexplored territory for him. “Then do what you will, I will follow your lead.”

Strider smiled as if Boromir had told a joke, nodding as he carefully extracted his finger and stood up straight. “You may not be so eager to do so in the days to pass, my friend.” Boromir wanted to ask what he meant, but the other man pulled him in for another kiss. He didn’t understand how the other man seemed so calm and collected even through his lust. Each movement had purpose, nothing was rushed...while Boromir could barely control himself. “This will be easier with you on the bed.”

The words had a sense of finality to them, and while new to this, Boromir had some idea of what getting on the bed would mean. He swallowed loudly, nodding and climbing onto the soft sheets. He would need to thank Lord Elrond again for his gracious accommodations; even through his lust he knew this would likely be the most comfortable bed he ever slept-or did other things-in. He started to get on his back, but Strider shook his head and climbed on with him.

“On all fours.” the ranger said, and Boromir paled slightly, but did as he was directed. Strider’s hands slid gently over his back, his arms, down across his legs, soothing him until the other man relaxed somewhat. He felt like a child being comforted, but the treatment felt too amazing on his sore muscles for him to object. “I am eager, Boromir, but I wish for this to be as good as possible for you. I would not have your first time with a man be an unpleasant one. Anything you wish, or dislike, do not keep to yourself.”

“You seem to be doing well so far.” Boromir said, looking back towards the other man with a shaky smile. Strider was looming over him now, taking in the sight of the toned body offered to him, his grey eyes filled with fire that made the steward nervous and excited at once. The ranger moved to a better position, and his strong hands gently spread Boromir open, forcing the other man to look away as his hands gripped the sheets as tightly as he’d ever held a sword. 

Boromir’s breath left him in a huff when the tongue found his hole. His entire body tightened, an electric shock seeming to go from his legs to his head. His sharp intake of breath was quickly put to good use for cries he was unable to keep inside him, pleasure bolting through his system and making his member grow and begin to throb. Strider’s tongue was relentless, his hands forcing Boromir to remain exposed to the ranger’s exquisite treatment until he was jerking and almost thrashing on the bed, wanting to both get away from the feeling and find more of it. 

“You may be one of the most responsive people I have been with.” Strider’s small laugh after his words would ordinarily have wounded his pride, but then the tongue returned to push it’s way inside him, and Boromir lost most of his coherent thought. Tears were prickling in his eyes, his face burning in shame and heat and passion. Why had it not been this way for him before? What did this mean? He let out a string of curses into the crook of his arm when Strider began stroking his engorged member while sliding his tongue in and out of him, and he realized he didn’t care. 

“Please, please...please keep going, I need...” Boromir was begging, keeping his eyes closed tightly and whimpering, his voice sounding quite different than he could ever remember it sounding. But then, he had never begged before. In complete disregard to his words, Strider pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I believe you are ready for more. If there is no objection?” Strider asked, Boromir shaking his head quickly, showing that there was definitely no objection before the question was finished. “Good. Deep breath.” Boromir just managed to take in a shaky breath before a finger slid all the way inside him with almost no resistance. The ranger’s tongue had clearly done its work well, and Boromir’s voice rose to new heights as his body tightened around the intrusion. “Does that hurt?”

“It...it stings some, but...Strider, I had no idea anything could feel like this...” Boromir said quietly, his shoulders shaking as the other man gently removed the digit. “What are you doing?” he continued as he felt Strider’s weight leave the bed. He got up, cursing himself for slightly, and saw the other man searching through a dresser.

“Finding something that will make this more pleasant for the both of us...here we are.” Strider said, holding up a small, glass bottle full of clear liquid. “You know what this is?” he continued, walking back over and climbing onto the bed. Boromir let him gently turn him over so he was on his back, and felt himself grow hotter when his legs were nudged apart. The sound the bottle being unstoppered was louder than it should have been. 

“I think I have some idea, I used it often enough for myself.” Boromir replied with a light smirk, his eyes widening when Strider smiled at him, clearly amused. “Not for this! And I thought you wanted me on my back.” The ranger’s fingers were slick now, and Boromir threw back his head and shut his eyes when he felt them start to rub at his entrance. His mouth opened as they teased gently in, then out, never truly breaching him, only making his hole wet and looser.

“Originally, but then I realized I was unable to see your face. And it’s very expressive.” Strider said, his voice so calm and collected, he may as well have been reading a book or taking a leisurely stroll. It was driving the steward insane, especially when the ranger’s other hand came up to play with his chest and stomach, rubbing and pinching and making Boromir writhe in anticipation. His member was untouched, yet it throbbed and leaked as much as if he were buried in a woman’s heat. 

“Strider, I know what comes next, and I am not some blushing maiden who-” Boromir’s words were cut off with a shocked gasp as two fingers were shoved as deep as they could go inside of him. There was little pain, the oil and preparation more than enough to ensure that pleasure overwhelmed the man. Boromir sat up quickly and stared down at his nether regions and the hand that was causing this feeling, an actual cry escaping him as he felt Strider’s fingers start moving rhythmically inside him. 

“I will proceed when I think you are ready, and no faster. And you do not seem to mind my fingers pleasing you, son of Gondor.” Strider said, a muttered laugh escaping him when Boromir’s hands found his face and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. The longer his fingers pushed and prodded, never leaving his partner’s tight heat, the more desperate and needy the sounds coming out of Boromir’s mouth became. When the kiss was finally broken, he saw tears in the steward’s eyes.

“What spell do you put on me? What magic do you call on to make me feel like this? This cannot be, this cannot be...” Boromir said pleadingly, ashamed but so full of pleasure and heat that when Strider pushed him again onto his back and added another finger, he could only beg for more. “Yes! Strider, by all I hold dear, please do not stop this. Never, never stop” 

Boromir’s words were starting to become incoherent, eventually reduced to pleas and affirmations that made Strider’s blood boil. To reduce such a proud, powerful man to this state was one of his favorite things, but this man...this man was the most spectacular he had ever found. He stilled his fingers, allowing the man some time to breathe before gently removing them and wiping them on the cloth he had used earlier. Taking the bottle in hand and leaning back, he drizzled the liquid onto his steel member and stroked it slowly, watching Boromir’s hungry eyes take in the sight.

“You understand what I am going to do with this?” Strider asked, shaking his sword meaningfully, watching the blood rush to Boromir’s face as he nodded, his own weapon pulsing in anticipation. “I will give you what I believe you can handle, then more. And then more after. If you wish me to stop, or are in true pain, tell me at once. Otherwise...”

“Anything. Anything you want, I...cannot refuse you.” the other man confessed, his eyes lowering in shame. No maiden had ever done this to him; he had refused advances before, when time and duty did not permit pleasure. This was something different, this man held a power over him, and Boromir could not find it in himself to hate it. If this man told him to get on his knees in front of his father’s entire court, he might very well do it.

Strider slid forward on the silken sheets, his body bathed in the moonlight the huge windows allowed. This place was so open, anyone could likely spy them from afar, but Boromir was not in his own city. No one he knew was here, which he was most thankful for, as the ranger spread his legs further. He could not imagine what his father would say if he knew what was about to happen to him. 

“Ready?” the ranger asked, Boromir nodding in reply and taking in a deep and shaky breath as he felt the other man’s engorged member press against his entrance. The steward cried out as Strider slowly but firmly began to push the head inside him, sending pulses through his body. He could feel the shape of it, how large Strider was, how well he had been opened up, felt a hand coming to rest on his chest and play with his nipples, sensation on top of sensation making him begin to pant with exertion. The ranger stopped, humming in satisfaction, looking down at how much more there was to go, and smiling to himself. If Boromir was this reactive to just the beginning...

There was no resistance to one inch, then two, only Boromir’s broken moans as he looked up at the other man, his mouth unable to close. Strider leaned forward to fill that mouth with his tongue, the steward clinging to him like a lifeline, his hands grabbing onto Strider’s shoulders and clinging to the strong muscle there. Boromir’s hole squeezed and pulsed around him, but was too prepared to do more than cause him supreme pleasure as he slid all the way forward, causing the other man to scream in what he knew was anything but pain.

Strider moaned into Boromir’s mouth as the other man shook below him. He was just so tight around him, it was relentless, constantly trying to either push him out or pull him in. Every inch of his rather large weapon was in such a tight, slick hole...he knew if he wanted, he could finish just like this, but that would be unfair to the younger man. And Strider was patient. 

“I’m going to move now, Boromir, but you must not touch yourself until I tell you to. I know from my own experience, once you do, it will be your undoing.” Strider said in almost a whisper, his nose touching the other man’s. Boromir whimpered in sweet agony, but nodded, wanting desperately to disobey. But given how fantastic this had been so far, he was willing to listen to anything this man said. 

“Please be careful, I cannot...you feel so large in me, I feel like I am coming apart.” Boromir said in disbelief, looking down at his own leaking member and where Strider’s hips were flush against him. Of course women could accommodate someone this size, they gave birth. Boromir had not, and likely would not, ever birth a child, so for that to fit in him, and for it to feel so... “I do not have words to say what my body is feeling.”

“I have been where you are, and will gladly be again for you. I know what you feel. But that is just the beginning, I promise you.” Strider said, smiling warmly and stroking the other man’s cheek gently before giving him a softer kiss. Boromir chased after him, wanting more, but the ranger pulled away and pushed himself up, the steward gasping as the weapon inside him shifted. Strider lifted Boromir’s legs, grabbing them at the ankles and holding them up, and his member slowly began to slide out, making Boromir throw his head back and shut his eyes. 

“Hold the end of the bed to keep yourself still. You will need the leverage when I get truly started, and it will keep your hands off yourself.” Strider said with a wry smile, Boromir paling slightly when he realized why he would need leverage. His eyes wandered over the ranger’s hard, muscled body, and imagined just how much power it held.

“Gently, please.” Boromir pleaded as he complied with the order, and Strider’s smile faded as his eyes darkened with lust. “Ah!” he cried as the ranger slowly slid back into him to the hilt, his eyes widening as his weapon gave a huge bob and a strange but wonderful sensation bloomed at the tip. 

“I will be gentle, at first.” Strider promised, slowly sliding himself out before pushing back in at an easy pace that had Boromir letting out soft, shaky cries of uncontrollable bliss. “But I do not think you will be content with gentle for long.” he continued almost a moment later, certain and doubtless as he carefully broke the other man. Boromir stared up into his eyes, terrified, enraptured, and grateful, all at once. The steward tried to close his mouth and stare back with the same challenging look Strider’s face had acquired, but tears were filling his eyes, and his cries became louder and more desperate as he attempted to move to meet Strider’s thrusts.

“Harder, please!” Boromir begged, disregarding his earlier request and gripping the bed’s edge more tightly as he shut his eyes. He gritted his teeth and began to do his best to thrust himself on Strider’s weapon, impaling himself again and again before realizing the other man had stopped moving. The ranger’s moans had him opening his eyes, Strider’s open mouthed look of pleasure ceasing his movements. Strider smiled lazily, breathing hard.

“Do not be surprised, son of Gondor. It has been some time for me as well, and you are surprisingly good at that.” Strider said, dropping the other man’s legs and draping himself over the steward, latching onto his mouth with his own for a moment, grinding into him with slow thrusts. “I greatly enjoy giving the orders when entwined with someone such as you, but I will never complain if you take some control.”

“I cannot think about control now! I beg you, finish what you started. I need release, and I know you must need yours as much as I.” Boromir said urgently, Strider grinning before he leaned down to kiss and lick at the sweat on the younger man’s neck as he kept up his slow, shallow pace. “You will drive me to madness, harder!”

Strider rose and complied, sliding his hands under Boromir’s knees and lifting them before starting to heavily pound into the steward. Boromir gripped the bed for dear life, knowing he would get pushed off if he let go, as sounds he had never made in his life were punched out of him by Strider’s thrusts. With every motion he felt himself get closer and closer to release, and his shouts and curses grew more insistent. 

Their bodies were covered in sweat now, the loud sound of the ranger’s body slamming itself into the steward’s driving both of them towards the edge. Strider’s own voice was joining his, and Boromir fixed his gaze on the most beautiful sight he had ever seen...the grey eyes of this man meeting his as he came undone above him. He felt the member inside him grow even larger as desperate cries from the ranger began to fill the room, one of Strider’s hands leaving his leg to wrap around Boromir’s leaking sword and begin to pump him firmly. 

“Keep going, keep going!” Boromir shouted as he felt himself become truly filled, Strider groaning loudly as the snap of his hips becoming desperate. Boromir began losing himself and shouting up to the ceiling as his release was forcibly slammed out of him, and Strider immediately went from pumping to sliding his hand firmly from tip to base as fast as he was able. Another copious amount of white was painting his and Strider’s torsos, and Boromir finally released the bed to grab onto Strider’s arms, his shouts turning into whimpers as he began to come down and Strider still had not stopped working his hand up and down his sword. “Please, no more, I...cannot...”

Strider gave the steward’s member a few more slick strokes, making the other man buck and jump and clench around the rod still buried to the hilt within him. The ranger let himself come down to lie on Boromir without withdrawing himself, kissing him as much as their combined lack of breath would allow. Unfortunately, weariness had taken Boromir, and he could do nothing more than let tears fall down his face and kiss back lazily.

“Did I hurt you? You seemed rather...pleased.” Strider said, wiping his messy hand off on the sheets before using it to brush the sweat soaked hair off Boromir’s forehead. The steward huffed out a laugh, which made him groan as he inadvertently flexed around Strider’s member, making it pulse inside him.

“No, but...you still feel hard as stone.” Boromir replied, amazed, his own member soft and satisfied. He gasped as Strider very gently eased out an inch, then slid back inside, repeating the treatment with care as he gazed at Boromir’s pained expression turn into one of lax pleasure. The ranger smiled, lengthening his thrusts and listening to the soft groans.

“You finished twice, my lord Boromir...I can go many times in a night before being fully satisfied; I have merely finished once. And, if I so desired, I could have you many more times tonight, with you being far too tired to resist.” Strider said softly, without threat or malus in his voice. Boromir nodded, accepting this, turning his head away as he expected Strider to take him roughly once more. He had a feeling this time would cause more pain than pleasure...until Strider carefully pulled out of him.

“Do you not wish to...?” Boromir questioned in surprise, Strider helping him to move so he could pull the comforters over them, shutting out the slightly chilly air. The ranger pulled Boromir close, pressing their sweaty and messy bodies together and kissing him several times, firmly and with purpose that had Boromir relaxing. Their breathing quieted, heartbeats slowing. 

“Not if it would cause you pain. Though I expect....I request, that in the morning, you allow me to teach you how to pleasure my shaft with that lovely mouth of yours.” Strider said as he ran a finger along the other man’s chin, Boromir feeling the still hard member of the other man press meaningfully against him. “Which will of course mean a very thorough demonstration on my part, that I am quite sure you will enjoy.”

Boromir felt himself blush with those eyes upon him, and nodded mutely, before Strider kissed him again. They stayed like that for a while, cooling down, gently touching and exploring. The ranger’s weapon even calmed, which was almost disappointing. Boromir had never felt a man before, and although he was curious to do much more, his travels and exertions this evening were catching up with him, and he yawned widely. 

“Sleep, son of Gondor. I will be here in the morning.” Strider said softly, getting into a more comfortable position on his back, Boromir hesitantly going to his side and tangling his legs with the ranger’s. He felt almost like a child when Strider kissed his forehead, a warm feeling going through his whole body that had nothing to do with passion.

“I still do not know your real name.” Boromir said sleepily, not quite a complaint. This man was a mystery, and he hoped that was not the only reason he had such a draw for him. If he would be staying any time in Rivendell...well, there were worse ways to spend his time than interacting with this ranger. Strider’s fingers trailed up and down his shoulder, lulling him further towards sleep.

“You will learn it tomorrow, I am sure. Sleep now, Boromir. You have earned your rest.” Strider said, and Boromir could not resist shutting his eyes, the warmth of the body next to him, the coolness of the air around him, the silken sheets, and the magic of the elves seeping into his body and sending him into the most restful sleep he had slept in all his years. 

 

And when he dreamt, he dreamt of those eyes...


End file.
